


let us touch so much of ourselves together

by somethingdifferent



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Bisexual Rey (Star Wars), Daddy Kink, Dom/sub, ELMO FLAMES GIF, F/M, First Time, First Time Blow Jobs, Light Dom/sub, Loss of Virginity, Mention of - Freeform, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Unsafe Sex, she's on bc but okay i get it they should use a condom, this fic is called watch jane throw everything at the wall to see what sticks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:20:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24954430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somethingdifferent/pseuds/somethingdifferent
Summary: “I’m gonna take care of you,” he goes on. “But you need to be patient. Can you do that for me? Can you be a good girl?”She nods, then says aloud, “Yes.”His thumb inches closer to her mouth. His nail traces her lower lip. “Say it.”“I can be a good girl,” she whispers, barely louder than a breath.Ben goes to Rey's apartment. Finally.this is the smut for my twitter ficcute thing!
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 75
Kudos: 798





	let us touch so much of ourselves together

**Author's Note:**

> mind the tags!! if this isn't your vibe, feel free to skip it!! i'll be posting the rest of the story on twitter tomorrow or monday <3)
> 
> now, if you did read the tags and are still interested...listen. none of this is realistic. all of it is porn. it is nothing else. this is most assuredly the kinkiest thing i've ever written and also my first time writing daddy kink. be gentle pls. i know i'm going to hell. 
> 
> *insert elmo flames gif*
> 
> IF YOU'RE COMING HERE FROM AO3 READ THIS:
> 
> this is the smut part of my ongoing twitter fic CUTE THING!! read the rest of it [here!!!](https://twitter.com/janedazey/status/1274470159751708672) otherwise none of the following will make any sense!!

There were several options, in terms of outfits. She could, she thinks, always go the direct route: slinky silk robe with nothing underneath, pink ribbon around her middle like she’s a present for him to unwrap.

Not quite Ben’s style though, she thinks. Maybe another time. After their first time.

 _Her_ first time. _Ever_.

She decides, instead, to leave on her floral sundress, lacy white lingerie hidden underneath.

She runs over all the important areas of her body with a razor, double checking that no stubble has popped up in the day since she last shaved. Layers herself in coconut oil and lotion until she’s all smooth and soft and fragrant. She wears minimal makeup—for herself more than for him, considering she’d rather not have mascara running down her cheeks when they work up a sweat.

The minutes slip by slowly, almost unbearably so. Rey hates the train—not just because of _Anna Karenina_ , but because it always runs late. It gives her too much time to overthink.

Like: what if he doesn’t like this particular dress? What if he thinks the red nail polish is overkill? What if he’s too big for her?

What if he doesn’t want to have sex with a virgin?

Rey wishes, impossibly, that there had been a chance to tell him sooner. Because there’s no way in hell he knows, considering how they first started talking.

She’s twenty-two. She gets naked online for a living. She’s the one who asked him over for sex.

She should have had sex by now.

But she just...hasn’t. For whatever reason. Because it’s supposed to hurt. Because she’s never been that into any of the people she’s kissed, men or women. Because she’s positive, absolutely _positive_ , that they won’t be into the kind of shit she’s into, the kind of shit that people make fun of online, the kind of shit that makes her feel mildly defective when she thinks about it too deeply. Because she’s only comfortable being naked in front of someone if she can control everything about it—the lighting, the angle, the careful, cautious positioning of her stomach, her back.

Because she’s never trusted anyone enough to open herself up like that.

Until now.

Rose, her roommate from freshman year and occasional party friend, told her she should be sure about the person before having sex for the first time.

“Virginity is a social construct, _obviously_ —”

“Oh, _obviously_ —”

“But like, you _are_ a virgin,” Rose went on, “and there’s nothing wrong with that. Just—if you are gonna do it for the first time, just make sure it’s with someone you trust. That’s the most important thing.”

Someone she trusts, Rose said, would want her to feel good. They wouldn’t be weird about going down on her. They’d take care of her afterwards.

And that’s Ben, she thinks. She’s certain, really. That’s Ben.

She just hopes he wants her, too.

By the time Mitaka calls (a quick call, this time, a simple: _he’s on his way up, goodbye, Miss Palpatine_ ), Rey feels like she might explode from sheer nervousness.

Rey pads across the living room in bare feet, the hem of her dress swishing somewhere around her upper thighs. He’ll like the dress, at least. If nothing else.

She flings open the door before he even has a chance to knock.

Ben’s hand is still raised, curled into a fist. Without two canvases in front of him, she can appreciate the muscled solidity of his chest—the fabric of his black t-shirt stretches tight across his torso, leaving absolutely no questions about his strength to her imagination. He could throw her around however he wants, do to her absolutely anything he wants; her stomach turns flips just thinking about it.

Ben grins, a crooked slant of his lips. He lowers his hand. “Hi, Rey,” he says.

The smile freezes on her face.

“ _I’m a virgin,_ ” she yells.

His eyebrows knit together. But he doesn’t run away. On the contrary: he takes a step closer to her.

But he doesn’t say anything.

So she keeps talking. Loudly, and way too fast.

“Virginity is a social construct, obviously,” she stammers, “but, like, in some measure there is a difference between whether you’ve gotten naked and, like, _done things_ with someone, _sex things,_ and whether you haven’t done that, and so, from a purely _this is a state change not the end all be all of your life as a woman and a person_ point of view and not a _your virginity is equivalent to your worth as a woman_ point of view, I haven’t done those things. Sex, I mean. And like, okay, if you don’t want to have sex with me because of that that’s _fine_ , and I _get it,_ you’re thirty and a real person with real work that you do instead of my stupid Instagram shit, you don’t need to go around taking virginities and teaching girls how to get dicked down, but like—could you? Because I really, really want to. If it’s you. If it’s with you.”

Ben stares at her. And stares.

So long that she starts to worry she may have actually broken his brain.

“Ben, are you okay—”

Ben cuts her sentence short with a single step.

He crosses the threshold. He curls his hand around hers, where it still rests on the edge of the door. He moves her hand, the door with it, until it shuts with a soft click behind him.

He’s entirely inside her apartment. The rest of the world shut out.

He looms over her, into her space, huge and sturdy and devastating, like a very fuckable oak tree. When his hand drops back to his side, he isn’t touching her at all, and somehow that only serves to stoke the fire that’s building low in her abdomen, igniting all along her skin.

“Rey,” he murmurs, so dark and low and velvet-soft Rey can practically feel herself melting at the sound, “are you telling me I’ll be the first person to be inside you?”

She swallows hard. “Yes.”

She thinks he might suppress a shudder. “And you thought I wouldn’t want that?”

“No,” she says, the word barely audible even to her own ears.

She can’t tear her eyes away from his. She doesn’t think he can look away either.

As she watches, Ben raises his hand to her face. He gently holds her chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting her head back. Rey worries, momentarily, that her heart might suddenly cease to beat, and she will die right here, unfucked by Ben.

“Rey,” he says, still so softly, so gently. He keeps saying her name; she loves the sound of it in his mouth. Her name has never sounded so fucking gorgeous as it does in his voice, heavy with desire. “I want you, no matter how many people you’ve slept with. But this—this is— _fuck._ You have _no idea._ ”

Rey’s face feels like it's in flames, along with the rest of her body. She clenches her thighs together. Licks her lips.

His pupils expand, amber swallowed in black.

“No idea of what?” she whispers, and this time she sees what he was trying to hide before—that flicker of desperation crossing over his features.

His jaw tenses. Eyes fluttering closed. When he speaks, after a long moment, his voice already sounds hoarse, stretched thin. Raw with want. 

“How much _better_ this makes it,” he grits out. His eyes open again, and Rey almost gasps, seeing his expression. All that _need._ “Knowing I’ll be the first. That you trust me with this.”

“I do,” she whispers. “Trust you. Just— _show me._ Please.”

His fingers slide to her jaw, to the nape of her neck. Curl into her hair, left loose around her shoulders.

He leans in close, lips brushing the shell of her ear. Rey feels a shiver run up her spine, and she is used to having things, used to getting things, used to wanting things, too, but nothing like this.

She doesn’t think she’s ever wanted anything so badly in her life. Anyone.

“If you want me to stop,” he says quietly, “just tell me. Okay, sweetheart?”

She nods, her lips parting. Breath growing short. “Okay.”

And then—

Ben pulls her head back sharply, exposing her throat.

Rey feels her body go slack. Her mind go blissfully blank.

There’s no wall behind her, nothing around them but empty space, and the only part of his body that touches hers is his arm around her shoulder, his hand on her neck, but she still feels _caged in_. Held. She has no idea what she’s doing, no practical experience when it comes to this, but that doesn’t matter.

She knows Ben will take care of it.

“Pretty girl,” he coos, his mouth scant inches from hers. “You have no clue about the kinds of things I’ve thought about doing to you.”

Rey shakes her head. Her legs are already trembling; she worries, for a moment, they might give out completely and she’ll just crash onto the floor. Ben’s hand tethers her, keeping her upright.

“That’s alright,” he says, still so gentle. “I’ll show you.”

He closes the distance between them. Presses his lips to hers lightly, almost chastely.

For a heartbeat, she deepens the kiss, bringing her hands up to touch his face—

And then, he lets her go.

Rey chases his mouth for a moment, confused, but he just stands there in front of her, his gaze heated.

“Get on the couch.” His voice is low and deep, rumbling in his chest.

Rey doesn’t think. She just does what he says—turns around and walks on unsteady legs to the sofa.

She sits down. Smooths the skirt of her dress over her thighs. Waits.

Ben just watches her for a moment, not doing anything.

And Rey gets a tad bit...impatient.

“Are you planning on fucking me anytime today?” she tosses out.

Rey doesn’t know what it is, really. Ostensibly, there is no change in Ben—in his expression, his posture, his movement. But, suddenly, there is a palpable shift in him. She can tell even from a distance of ten feet.

“Are you going to be good?” he murmurs, tone deceptively soft and serene, hiding something in it. Like a snake in the grass.

He takes a step toward her; Rey squeezes her thighs together.

“Or,” he continues, now beginning to slowly, carefully move toward her, holding her in his sights like a wolf would a rabbit, “are you going to keep acting like a brat?”

Her breath catches in her throat. She can feel her heartbeat pounding in her ears. Between her legs.

By the time he gets to the couch, she feels almost faint from just how much she _wants_.

“I can be good,” she says, almost a whine.

Ben, that _bastard,_ just smirks, standing tall over her, his knees bumping into hers. His belt is level with her eyes, the buckle glinting silver, leather amidst a sea of black fabric.

“Are you sure about that, princess?” he asks, quiet.

She responds quickly, embarrassingly so. “Yes.”

Her hand reaches toward that belt buckle, wanting to know if he’s hard underneath, just as wanting as her, but before she can touch, he wraps his palm around her forearm.

His fingers are so long and thick that the tip of his thumb reaches almost to the middle of his index finger as it circles her wrist.

Rey _gulps_ , trying to imagine them inside her. Stretching her open for him.

“Did I say you could touch me?” He doesn’t sound angry, really. Just stern. Demanding. In control.

She looks up at him, mouth open and dry. Shakes her head, incapable of uttering a single syllable.

His other hand comes up to cup the side of her face. His thumb sweeps across her jaw, and her mouth falls open wider.

“It’s not about me,” he murmurs. “We need to get you ready first. Okay, baby?”

“Yeah,” she manages, the sound cracked and rough.

“I’m gonna take care of you,” he goes on. “But you need to be patient. Can you do that for me? Can you be a good girl?”

She nods, then says aloud, “Yes.”

His thumb inches closer to her mouth. His nail traces her lower lip. “Say it.”

“I can be a good girl,” she whispers, barely louder than a breath.

His hand moves; he puts his index finger in her mouth. Her teeth graze his skin.

“ _Suck_ ,” he commands. 

Her lips close around the finger automatically. She sucks, lapping at his skin softly. Listens to the hiss of air as Ben inhales sharply.

After barely more than a moment, he pulls his hand away again. She watches his chest rise and fall, unsteady.

“Lay back,” he says, his voice sounding slightly shakier than before.

Rey scoots back onto the couch, her dress hitching higher up her legs as she moves.

Ben watches her, his eyes dark and intent and focused between her thighs. She knows he can see her lace panties from this angle; she wonders if the wet spot at the gusset is visible. If he can already tell how she’s dripping for him.

“Take that dress off,” he breathes.

“But I wore it for you.” Rey twists on the couch, bending a knee up to part her legs further. “Don’t you think it’s cute?”

“Put your leg back down.”

She does.

His eyes roam over her body, drinking her in like she’s a damn glass of water in the desert, or any other number of overwrought metaphors. “Take off your dress,” he says, rougher than before.

She does that, too. Wriggles out of the sundress until she’s left almost bare on the leather sofa, the lacey scraps of her lingerie barely keeping her decency intact.

No one has ever seen this much this close before. Not ever.

She’s so glad it’s him who’s seeing it for the first time.

She starts to spread her legs apart, flushed and overeager, anxious to feel his hands on her, but he bends forward abruptly, resting his hands on the tops of her thighs, just over her hips, holding her still.

His head lowers, mouth hovering over hers.

“Little brat,” he says, lips brushing her skin. “I’ll give you what you want. Just wait.”

She wriggles underneath him, half-heartedly trying to get out from under his grip. “Don’t want to,” she whines.

He kisses her then, hard. Rey arches into it as much as she can with him still holding her in place, wrapping her arms around his shoulders like it might keep him there, right where she wants him.

He licks into her mouth carefully, deliberately, and she moans around his tongue, trying her best to swallow him whole.

It’s like dumping water on a grease fire: it only stokes the flames that much higher.

By the time he pulls away again, Rey feels nearly dizzy.

“Better?” he murmurs. She nods, biting her lip as he rubs a soothing circle over the joint of her hip. “Now hush, princess. I didn’t bring anything to tie you up with, so you’ll just have to keep those pretty legs together for me.”

She nods, biting her lip to keep from whimpering too loudly. It hardly works; Ben smirks at the helpless little noise that bubbles up from the back of her throat despite her best efforts.

Distantly, she’s aware that this would likely not qualify as a normal first time. But she doesn’t care, not even a little.

Ben knows what she needs. What will make it good for her. She doesn’t know exactly how he could tell; maybe she’s just that obvious.

But everything inside her is screaming at her to listen to him. To let him do what he will.

She bites her lip and squirms as he leans over her and presses one palm to the cushion beside her head. His other skates low across her stomach, barely brushing the scalloped border of her panties.

Then, before she can blink, his hand slots neatly between her thighs.

Rey’s whole body tenses, knees locking, hands closing into fists. She still doesn’t look away from him, though. She can see his eyes darkening as his thumb traces a curved line back and forth over her skin, forging a small path that ends just out of reach of where she wants him.

“Has anyone ever touched you here?” He asks it like it isn’t a question. Like he already knows the answer, but just wants to hear her say it out loud.

She shakes her head. “No.”

His hand inches further up. His index finger grazes the edge of the lace. But he still doesn’t touch her where she needs him—and it is a _need_ now, that much is certain.

“You need to ask for what you want, baby,” he says, voice low and authoritative enough to make her tremble. “Good girls ask for what they want.”

“Touch me.” She’s not quite begging, not yet, but she has a feeling that will only be the case for so long. “Touch me, please.”

He cocks his head, feigning confusion. “Where?”

“Touch m-my—” Rey takes a deep breath, cheeks reddening. “My pussy. Please.”

And then, _finally_ (thank fucking _god)_ , he does.

Ben cups the entirety of her sex in his huge hand, his fingers molding to the contours of her folds, the base of his palm a warm, reassuring press. He isn’t even doing anything yet, isn’t even really touching her clit, but Rey _keens,_ grateful for the little bit of relief his touch provides.

For a moment, he does nothing but hold her. His breathing is visibly shallow, his eyes heated and intent, and Rey can’t look away, can’t do anything but eke out these breathy little moans that don’t even really sound like her at all.

By the time he moves at last, thumb dipping just beneath the edge of the fabric, the tips of his fingers slowly peeling the gusset of her panties to the side, Rey is quivering, her whole body reacting to him almost involuntarily. Like a reflex. A muscle spasm. A hiccup.

“—fucking _soaked_ ,” he’s hissing, dropping one knee onto the couch beside her. “Is all of this for me?”

She can’t do anything but nod, whimpering when one thick finger slips between her lips to feel the slick wetness dripping out of her. She feels liquid, a mess. On the verge of being completely unraveled.

Ben drags that finger up through her folds, dragging that wetness so he can rub slippery circles around the bud of her clit, his touch light enough to torture.

The sounds she’s making are spilling out of her near continuously, embarrassing moans and whines that have no discernible linguistic content beyond the first consonants of his name and the word _please_. 

“Princess,” Ben says, voice suddenly hard, “I asked you a question—”

“Ye-yes,” she manages, “yes, it’s for you, I got all wet for you, please, Ben—”

Her sentence ends in a sharp cry when the pads of two fingers suddenly connect firmly with her clit. He rubs her unhurriedly, stroking tight, focused patterns, his eyes intense and determined to catch every helpless expression that crosses her features as she practically _mewls_ , overwhelmed with sensation.

“Inside,” she gasps out, “inside me, please—”

“What do you need, baby?”

“Your fingers,” she manages. “Want your fingers inside me—”

His hand skates further down, and then suddenly one finger is working her open, sliding into her.

He fucks her on his hand, setting her at a rhythm that has her back arching up, her hands scrambling for purchase. His fingers curl brutally inside her, tugging another strangled cry out of her, beckoning her toward release. Every single movement of his hand makes an audible wet sound, like she’s turning into water. It would be mortifying if she weren't so turned out.

And then, just as quickly, his rhythm slows. He pulls back.

Rey is about to protest the loss shamelessly, about to splay her legs out like he told her not to and pound her fists ineffectually against the cushions—but all the fight leaves her as he pushes back inside her again, now with two fingers instead of one.

It’s a tight fit; one of his fingers feels like two of her own, and she’s never tried to take much more than that.

Rey whimpers and squirms, trying to get used to the intrusion.

“Need to get you ready,” he mutters, almost to himself, “or your pretty little cunt’s not going to fit around my cock.”

Both of Ben’s knees are on the couch now, and he’s still fully dressed while she’s utterly indecent. It’s not fair, she thinks. Not fair at all.

Rey reaches down his body again, trying to feel the hard-on that’s already visible, even through his black jeans. She gets as far as grazing the outline of it with the tips of her fingers when Ben rears back, clambering away to stand beside the couch again.

She sits up, reclining back on her elbows as Ben retreats a short distance away, seeming to gather himself.

“What did I tell you?” he barks.

Rey’s lips part as she wracks her brain, trying to remember—

“To be patient,” she mumbles, sheepish.

Ben’s face hardens; it sends a thrill up her spine.

While she watches, he carefully, leisurely, unbuckles his belt. Undoes the button and zipper of his jeans.

Her mouth waters. 

“You want to touch so badly, little brat,” he says, quiet and dark, “then come here.”

Rey scoots to the edge of the couch again and plants her hands beside her hips, preparing herself to stand on uneven legs.

“No,” Ben interrupts before she can get to her feet. “ _Crawl._ ”

Rey licks her lips. She slides off the couch and sinks down, onto her hands and knees.

She crawls.

He towers over her as she moves toward him, limbs shaking. She feels so exposed like this; the hardwood is unforgiving under her knees, the air cool against her still-bare pussy.

She sits back on her heels when she finally gets to him and gazes up, waiting for him to tell her, to give her _permission_.

Ben looks at her, impassive and so very calm.

“Suck,” he orders, for the second time.

Her hands fly up, fingers fumbling to wrench his fly open further, to tug down his boxer-briefs. Her hands tremble as she pulls out his cock, huge and hard and flushed red. It bounces in front of her face, the tip glistening with pre-come.

She raises an eyebrow and grins up at him. “All of that for me?” she teases.

At that, Ben reaches down, slides a hand through her hair and pushes her forward until her lips part and close in a perfect ‘o’ around him.

“So fucking mouthy,” he chides gently, his voice at direct odds with the firm grip he has on the back of her head, keeping her in place as she slowly starts to take him further and further into her mouth, her hand curving around the bottom of his length.

He’s... _big_. Just like the rest of him. Her middle finger and thumb barely manage to connect around his shaft.

She feels another gush of wetness drip from her. Can feel how sticky and damp she is all the way down her fucking thighs.

She pumps slowly at first, experimenting with holding her tongue flat under the head, swirling around the tip, giving kittenish licks and kisses when she pulls away to gasp for air.

After a minute, he thrusts forward, and then shushes her gently when she sputters around him, pressing a hand to his hip as if to hold him in place. He grips her chin in one hand and soothes a thumb at the corner of her lips, a soft encouragement. 

“Open up, princess,” he says, ever-so-gentle. “You can take more.”

Rey looks up at him from under her lashes. Flattens her tongue under his cock and relaxes her throat as he inches further in.

She watches the line of his throat as Ben throws his head back and _groans_ , the sound of it going straight to her clit. She feels dizzy with need, the throbbing between her legs almost overwhelming.

“Much better,” he manages shakily. “So good.”

A small noise escapes her, a little _mmph_ of satisfaction at the praise.

She keeps working him with her hand as she sucks his cock, ears attuned to every single stutter in his breath, every involuntarily grunt and sigh, as he murmurs quiet encouragements of _that’s right, sweetheart, lick just like that_ and _so sweet for me, princess, such a pretty fucking mouth_ and _good girl, just a little deeper, just a little more._

When he wraps his fist around her hair and pulls her away, drool dripping off the point of her chin, Rey nearly whines aloud.

“Wasn’t I being good?” she asks, almost a pout. She tilts forward just enough to lap daintily at the head of his cock again, trying to tempt him into doing what she wants.

Ben shudders, his hold on her hair tightening for a brief moment as he tucks himself back into his underwear before he leads her, gently, to her feet.

Rey stands in front of him, her lips puffy and wet with spit, hair in utter disarray, lingerie rumpled and peeled aside, looking thoroughly debauched.

“You were,” he says, his voice almost tender. Rey looks up at him, dazed and pleased, and feeling so wonderfully happy she can hardly even stand it. “Such a good girl. And do you know what good girls get?”

She shakes her head. Ben leans forward and kisses her swollen lips, so softly it nearly makes tears prick at the corners of her eyes.

“Good girls get to come,” he murmurs into her skin.

Ben spins her around and tugs her in his chest. Brushes her hair away from her face and plants a kiss at the side of her throat.

He undoes the tiny clasp at the back of her bra and slips the straps down her arms, kissing his way across the slope of her neck, nuzzling his nose against the freckles at the point of her shoulder.

He palms her breasts in his big hands, her nipples stiffening into hard little peaks as he pinches and rolls them with his fingers.

Rey moans, her head falling back against his chest, letting her weight sag against him, knowing he’ll keep her up, knowing he’ll hold her.

“So sweet,” he murmurs. “Such a sweet little thing. I’ve been thinking about these tits for weeks.”

“Have you?”

Ben turns her back around by way of reply, sliding his arms around her back. He dips his head to mouth at her breasts, lapping his tongue around both of her nipples until she squeals and tugs hard on his hair, unsure if she wants to keep him in place or push him away.

“Even better than I thought you’d be,” he whispers. “Like a fucking dream.”

Rey can’t tell if it’s something he intended for her to hear or not.

But her heart feels full enough to burst.

Ben’s hand drifts across her stomach, fitting back between her legs.

Rey gasps, screwing her eyes shut.

“Tell me what you want.” His teeth tug lightly on her nipple, and he grins up at her. “Good girls ask for what they want.”

“P-please,” she stammers, flushing as he continues to suck gently at her tits, trailing spit between her breasts until they’re both visibly wet and flushed red. “Please, fuck me. Fuck me and make me come. I wanna come.”

She takes a deep breath and bites her lip. Looks up at the ceiling rather than his face when she adds, nervous and stuttering, “ _D-daddy_.”

Ben looks up at that. His eyes are so dark, almost entirely black, that Rey nearly gasps at the sight. His expression so open, raw with hunger, with need.

“Fucking _perfect_ ,” he growls. 

He lifts her suddenly into his arms, holding her under her ass to carry her back to the couch and deposit her on the cushions.

Rey bounces up once as she drops, watching in a daze as Ben tugs his t-shirt up over his head by the back of his collar (a very specific manner of removing shirts, she thinks, and one that seems to be used almost exclusively by hot men).

“Lift your legs, princess,” he commands, and she obeys the order, not even pausing to think.

He peels her panties off, letting out a loud, drawn-out groan when he sees the sheen of creamy wetness sticking to the inside of her thighs. “Such a pretty wet pussy for Daddy.”

He bunches the scrap of lace up in his fist, shoving it somewhere around her knees, trapping her legs together as they’re raised up in the air.

His hands grab her waist and drag her across the cushions, lining her up in front of where he’s now kneeling on the couch and lowering his head to hover over her pussy.

A strong arm shoves at her thighs, folding her almost in half. His hand curls around her leg as his forearm keeps her positioned exactly how he wants, pushing her thighs back and together, exposing her cunt to his mouth, his warm breath against her skin.

Rey couldn’t move if she wanted to. He’s that strong, that implacable.

God, she adores him.

The first touch of his tongue to her sopping pussy makes her whole body jump.

Her ankles lock together in midair above his head, toes curling, when he starts licking—first broad swipes with the flat of his tongue, then pointed flickers around her clit.

Rey babbles ceaselessly, begging him, with cries of _yes, Ben, please, Daddy, more_.

He slips those same two fingers back inside her, the passage eased this time by familiarity and by the slick liquid pouring out of her cunt. He holds her body down as he fucks her with his fingers, scissors them apart, stretching her tight channel open for him. Getting her ready. As her body relaxes, accepting more and more, deeper and deeper, he adds a third.

When Ben suckles her clit between his lips and flicks at the bundle of nerves with his tongue, she hears herself _wail_.

Her abs hurt from the position he’s got her in, and her throat feels like it’s been scraped rough and raw, but she can’t stop whining, an endless stream of sound that she still can’t believe is really coming from her.

“This sweet little cunt,” he murmurs into her folds, “this is all mine. All fucking _mine_.”

“Yes.” She’s nodding, despite the fact that he can’t see her do it, see just how strongly she agrees. “Yes, Daddy, my little cunt is—is all yours, _please—_ ”

“Wanna fill it up.” As if to punctuate his sentence, his thick fingers hook and rub inside her, hitting some spot in her body that makes her almost _shriek_. “I want to fuck this tight, hot cunt, make you come on Daddy’s cock, split you open until you’re a shaking, quivering little _mess_ for me.”

“Oh, fuck,” she moans, throwing her head back as Ben dives back into her pussy, lapping her more eagerly than before, “fuck, Ben, oh, fuck, _Daddy—_ ”

Rey rocks her hips against his face as best she can with him holding her in place, and she feels so close, right up against the edge, and she knows it’ll only take a few more seconds, just one good shove, and she’ll come on his tongue—

“Fuck me,” she begs, “please, Daddy, want you to—fuck me, make me come on your cock, fill me up with your come—”

Ben always moves so gracefully, she’s noticed. No action wasted.

In three fluid motions, he sits up on his knees, pulls his cock back out of his boxer-briefs, and lines himself up with her entrance, holding her legs together against his chest, her ankles level with his shoulder.

“Do I need a condom?” He asks the question breathlessly, the head of his cock brushing against her folds even as he speaks. “I’m clean, but I have one, Rey, do I—”

“No,” she moans, “no, I’m good, wanna feel you, Ben, want you to come inside me, please, just—”

She gasps, her limbs locking up, as he begins to press forward, the head of his cock slowly sinking into her tight, warm cunt.

It’s good that he used three fingers, she thinks. Even if that hardly compares to how it feels to have Ben’s dick inside her.

He only manages to get less than halfway inside at first. Rey whines, wriggling her ass against his hips, desperate for him to fill her up, still feeling so empty.

Ben tilts forward, cupping her cheek in his hand.

“Little brat,” he murmurs. “I said to be patient. You’re just so— _fuck_ , so— _small_ , it’s going to take a minute.”

“ _Daddy_.” Later, she might be embarrassed about how needy she sounds right then, how she draws the word out on a high-pitched squeal like the spoiled brat he keeps accusing her of being. “I want _more._ I can take more.”

“You will,” he reassures her. His hips thrust forward, and Rey whimpers, feeling him fill her further, impossibly thick and hard. “I’m going to—god _damn_ it, I’m going to— _wreck_ this pretty fucking cunt. Fucking _ruin_ you with Daddy’s cock.”

As he speaks, Ben keeps rocking forward and back again, slowly wetting his length inside her, eyes fixed on Rey while she squirms and whines and begs underneath him, huffing out little whimpers and sighs as he stuffs her fuller and fuller, trying to take as much as she can.

And then, suddenly, her hips lift, and he slots himself against her just right, and Ben is burying himself inside her all the way to the hilt.

Rey’s mouth opens in a noiseless scream.

Ben groans, his head dropping forward, hair falling in front of his eyes as they screw shut.

“Fuck me,” he mumbles. “Jesus fucking Christ.”

“Ben,” she whimpers. “Please. Please.”

Rey doesn’t really even know what she’s asking for. Just that she needs _something._

But he knows anyway. Ben always knows.

He shushes her gently, parting her thighs and hitching her knees on either side of his torso so their bodies are flush together.

He rests his forearms beside her head, his fingers twirling idly in the hair spread out like a halo behind her.

“You’re so fucking good,” he says quietly, pressing a kiss just under her eye. “You’re so fucking _good,_ Rey.”

Rey thinks there might be tears smarting at the corners of her eyes. She can’t quite tell.

He kisses her again, one last time, before raising himself back up and gripping the backs of her thighs, holding her legs apart in the air, holding her body open for him.

Then, he thrusts forward hard enough to move her whole body up the couch, and she goes abruptly quiet. He does it again, and Rey _squeaks_.

“Not so fucking mouthy now, little brat,” he hisses, eyes dark and hungry.

Rey nods shamelessly, twitching underneath him as he fills her up, over and over again. He smacks a hand against her ass, smirking when she keens and cries out mindlessly, her words jumbling and mixing together: _yes_ and _please_ and _Daddy_.

He fucks her hard, relentless, setting a punishing pace that has her heels knocking against his shoulders and her hands opening and closing involuntarily, searching for something to hold onto.

His cock is huge, sliding in and out wetly while she clenches down around him, trying to keep him inside of her as much as possible. She feels so full, so filled—the perfect size for him. Like she’s something made for Ben to sink himself into: all sweet and small and helpless, just for him.

“So soft,” he keeps groaning, almost on a loop, “so fucking sweet, so good, good girl, princess—”

She’s so wet, loose-limbed and pliant, that Ben barely has to move her at all to sit her on his lap. She lets Ben and gravity do the work for her as he holds her wrists behind her back with one strong hand, the other holding onto her waist so he can work her up and down on his cock.

Rey cries out, a strangled whine as the change in angle has him bottoming out, hitting a place inside her that feels capable of driving her out of her mind.

“Are you gonna come for me?” His hand slips between them, his wide thumb stroking frantically over her clit as she lets out small, needy little squeaks above him, bouncing up and down on his cock. “Is my good girl going to come all over Daddy’s cock?”

“Yes,” she whimpers, “Ben, yes, please—”

“Wanna feel how tight this little cunt can get.” He’s winding her up, playing her like a damn instrument, fingering her clit like making her come is his whole god damn purpose in life. “Wanna feel you _gush_ —”

Her knees lock around his hips, her whole body quaking, and then she’s coming with a high-pitched moan, her orgasm drawn out as Ben strokes between her legs with increased fervor, pumping inside her recklessly while she falls to pieces all over him, just like he wanted her to.

Ben groans as she comes, so, so loudly, focused on every expression that crosses her face, looking at her like he’s trying to commit her to memory. With her aftershocks still shuddering through her, Rey goes limp against Ben as he fucks harder into her, his thrusts growing erratic and just on the verge of painfully rough.

“—gonna fill you the fuck up,” he mutters hoarsely, “make you fucking _mine_ —”

“Yes,” she whines, “all yours,” and then—

Rey listens to Ben's hoarse shout as he goes still, as his grip tightens, bruising, around her wrists, as he spends himself inside her, spilling into her cunt, hot and wet.

He grinds her down in his lap as he pumps her full, rocking her back and forth.

His fingers loosen and then fall away from her arms; he slides them up her spine, rubbing soft concentric circles along her vertebrae.

Rey shivers as her breathing returns to normal, as her body relaxes into a post-orgasm haze. She lays her head in the crook between his neck and his shoulder, letting herself come back down in bits and pieces.

Ben finds some spot on her shoulder blade that makes her arms erupt into goosebumps. It feels so much more strangely intimate than anything else they’ve done—like he’s found some place on her body that is untouched even by her. Like he’s laying claim on that place with the tips of his fingers alone.

“I’m not a virgin now,” she murmurs eventually, and, underneath her, Ben laughs.

“No,” he says, and she can hear the smile in his voice. “I guess not.”

He pulls out of her with a muffled curse. Rey giggles, watching Ben as he gropes blindly for something to wipe himself off with. Finding nothing, he gently lifts her up and drops her back onto the couch so he can stand.

“Towels are in the bathroom,” Rey tells him, her voice still sounding high-pitched and dazed. “If you wanna clean up.”

He grins. “Thanks, sweetheart.”

He heads off in the direction she points to, through the doors to her bedroom.

Which, she thinks, is probably where she’d expected to lose her virginity: in her big white bed, with both of them naked, with someone more fumbling and unsure than Ben, who would think her strange and disturbing if she tried to call them _Daddy_.

She grins up at the ceiling and stretches her arms above her head, letting the sun warm her skin through the open windows. It was really so much better than she thought it would be.

It always would have been, though. As long as it was him.

Ben comes back after a minute, his cock tucked back into the jeans he leaves undone, slung low on his hips.

He kneels beside her on the sofa and gently tugs her knee up, spreading her open again. He wipes between her legs with a damp, warm corner of her microfiber towel, and the gesture is so tender and thoughtful she almost wants to cry.

“I went in your dresser,” he murmurs, lifting up her legs to hook new underwear around her ankles, pink cotton briefs that he tugs onto her ass, covering her up again. “I hope you don’t mind. The lingerie was hot, but probably not comfortable to wear right now.”

She shakes her head, watching as he pulls his t-shirt from the floor and lifts it over her head. She pushes her arms through the sleeves, pleased with how giant it is on her body, how soft the fabric feels against her oversensitive skin, still warm from his body heat.

“I don’t mind,” she mumbles.

He brushes her hair away from her face, tucking it behind one ear. “Are you sore?”

She shakes her head again automatically—then stops and shrugs. “A little.”

“I can draw you a bath,” he offers, and she shakes her head gently again.

“That’s alright,” she says.

“Okay.” Ben pauses, his eyes flitting to hers and away again, almost nervously. He takes a breath. Smiles softly. “How about dinner?”

And there is it again: that _heart bursting_ feeling. That _butterflies in her stomach_ feeling. That _everything is right and good as long as he’s here_ feeling.

Rey grins, all tooth, and nods happily.

“Dinner sounds good,” she says.

**Author's Note:**

> phew i feel like i need to go to confession i hope u guys enjoyed this pure trash


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